


Don’t I Know You?

by Delphinapterus



Series: Leaving Oakdale [1]
Category: Supernatural, Wishbone
Genre: Crossover, Mistaken Identity, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-31
Updated: 2012-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-30 09:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphinapterus/pseuds/Delphinapterus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As though conjured by his thoughts Michael appears from around the corner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t I Know You?

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Supernatural 1.01.

The sun is hot on Joe’s back as he sits on a patio sipping an iced coffee and trying to finish his assigned reading for his political science class. It’s been two years since he moved to Austin for university and sometimes he still misses his dog. Wishbone is old and his movements are stiff but he still nuzzles Joe in greeting when he comes back to his Mom and Oakdale. Michael and his family moved away and sometimes Joe wonders what became of the patient boy who played older brother to him for awhile. He can still remember Michael sitting with him and explaining computers, as he fiddles with the innards of old CPUs, grinning in delight when he can speed them up. Joe has never developed Michael’s affinity for computers but he can still see his joyous grin when he closes his eyes.

As though conjured by his thoughts Michael appears from around the corner. He’s wearing an old leather jacket and his hair is shorter but Joe can still remember his face and the man in the jacket has Michael’s face. Joe has never met anyone with lips like Michael’s.  
He grins and stands up so he can lean over the balcony to snag Michael’s sleeve as he walks past. The leather is hard under his fingers.

“Hey, Michael, remember me?”

Michael turns and his face looks wary no longer open like it was in Oakdale.

“It’s me, Joe.”

There’s no recognition in the man’s gaze and Joe’s smile is fading. This has all been a huge mistake. Michael was probably trying to avoid him and now he’s screwed things up. Michael’s face softens and he lays a hand gently on Joe’s shoulder. There are fine white scars on the back of it.

“I’m not who you’re looking for man.”

“Come on Michael. I remember you. We used to spend Sunday afternoons together at your place.”

“Look, I’m sorry but I’m not Michael.”

Joe takes a closer look at Michael. Physically this guy is bigger than Michael, broad shoulders stretching his shirt tight across his chest, whereas Michael was slim as a dancer. This man looks older than Michael would be too, fine lines around his eyes and mouth.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m Joe, uh, Joe Talbot and you look like somebody I used to know . . . look the least I can do is buy you a coffee as an apology for grabbing you like that.”

The man smiles and the fine lines around his eyes turn into creases. “Dean Winchester. I won’t say no.”

His green eyes don’t have the same spark that Michael’s did. He wonders if Dean ever had the same spark of joy in his eyes.

 

That is how Joe ends up sitting with Dean and telling him all about Michael and Oakdale. Dean has dark smudges under his eyes that make him look tired. Joe can see a white bandage peaking over the collar of his shirt and when Dean moves he winces slightly. Joe has had enough sore muscles for playing on the sports teams to recognize the same problem in Dean’s movements. The more Joe studies him the more he thinks that Dean looks rougher than Michael. His face is sharper and he doesn’t smile as widely as Michael did but he is just as patient.

“It’s just me an’ my Mom but Michael moved in and he sorta adopted me as a little brother I guess.”

Dean smiles slightly, “Must ‘ave been nice, havin’ a brother.”

“Yeah. You got a brother?”

Dean’s face closes off and Joe wishes he hadn’t asked. Dean takes a long drink for his coffee and Joe recognizes it as a way to delay answering. The sun glints off the amulet Dean’s wearing. He hopes Dean’s brother isn’t dead or terminal or something terrible like that.

“Sam, m’ younger brother, he’s got a full ride at Stanford.” The last is said with pride and weirdly Dean’s voice reminds him of his Mom’s when she talks about him. Sam must be much younger than Dean for him to be so parental but that doesn’t work if Sam is at Stanford.

“Taught him everything I know.” Dean has the fond faraway look of somebody remembering good times. “Bitch still can’t outshoot me,” he shakes his head in resignation, “Always for the knives, that’s Sammy.”

Joe isn’t going to touch that so he offers instead, “Michael tried to teach me computers but,” he shrugs, “it never really took. At least I took to the music.”

Dean gives a huff of laughter, “The classics right?”

Joe nods, “I love Handel.”

“Handel! What about BOC? Metallica? Sabbath?”

Joe shakes his head and Dean stares at him.

“Tell me you’ve at least heard Zepplin.”

“Nope, never heard them.”

He grins at Dean’s look of horror. He feels like a younger brother again when Dean punches him gently on his shoulder.

“Oh that’s just . . .” Dean shakes his head in disappointment, “you’ve got to hear Zeppelin. It’s the great music of our times.”

“Not Mozart?”

Michael had been especially adamant that Mozart was a genius. He’d always said Mozart made calculus easier and Joe had picked up the habit much to the bemusement of his roommates.

Dean coughs, “Well he’s not bad, but Zeppelin, man, Zeppelin blows him out of the water, on Zepplin four –”

The ringing of a phone interrupts him and Dean flips open his cell.

“Yeah?”

Joe watches all the animation drain from his face. He looks upset before his face firmly slides into a blank mask.

“Yessir. . . Yessir . . . I’ll be there. Nosir, I’ll get right to it. Yessir, I know how important. Sorry sir.”

Dean’s shoulders are tight under the leather and he sounds almost guilty by the end. Joe can hear that the speaker has a deep sharp voice but not what he’s saying. He feels embarrassed to be sitting there with the sun on his back while Dean has to take a call that is so obviously private and harsh. Dean snaps the phone shut and smiles at Joe. It’s tight and small just the way Michael’s was when he was upset.

“Look thanks for the coffee. I hope you find Michael.”

“Are you alright?” Joe can’t help asking because he’s never seen anyone look so empty before. 

It scares him a little and he can’t help thinking that this is the sort of thing that his abnormal psych prof meant when he was talking about masks. Dean gives him a lopsided grin. 

“I’m good. Listen to some Zepplin for me.”

His jacket flips away for a second and Joe sees the butt of a gun before it is covered by the worn leather. Dean doesn’t seem to notice his slip. He tosses the coffee cup into the garbage and smiles at Joe.

“Good luck.”

Joe watches him walk out of the patio stride lengthening and boots making hard thumps on the concrete. He watches until Michael’s doppelgänger disappears around the corner. Wherever Michael is now Joe hopes he isn’t turning into Dean with his pain and a gun at his side.


End file.
